


To Own His Soul

by lavieboheme0919



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Accidental Knotting, Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Butt Plugs, Come Eating, Felching, Forced Bonding, Forced Orgasm, Futuristic Technology, M/M, Master Peter Hale, Master/Slave, Oral Sex, Public Nudity, Rimming, Sexual Slavery, Slave Ethan, Slave Stiles Stilinski, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Underage Rape/Non-con, Watersports, humanity enslaved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 09:47:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15771636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavieboheme0919/pseuds/lavieboheme0919
Summary: In the future, Werewolves are the dominant species. 14 year old Stiles is a human who has just been purchased by Peter Hale, one of the wealthiest and most powerful Werewolves alive. Peter has a dark reputation that seems to clash with the day-to-day reality of being the man's slave. As Stiles gets used to his new duties and purpose, his owner discovers something about him that will change everything.Note: This story is going to start dark and get a little darker, but it'll ultimately be a happy story in the end. Let me know if I missed any tags.





	To Own His Soul

“He looks so young,” the tall man said, wrinkling his nose. “And scrawny.”

Stiles did his best not to shiver from the coldness of the room as he stood naked and chained in front of the man who had purchased him.

“How old did you say he was?”

“Fourteen, Mr. Hale. He’s the human you ordered, though.”

“That’s old for a sex slave to be sold… And you’re certain that he is…” the man paused as he searched for the word he wanted. He slowly circled the boy, taking stock of every detail. “Untainted?”

“Yes sir, with the exception of the preparations,” the other man replied.

“What preparations?” Mr. Hale demanded.

“He was cleaned, stretched, and lubricated,” came the reply. “Per your request, we made sure he was ready for use upon delivery.”

“Very good,” Mr. Hale said, tapping his chin, still not taking his eyes off his new property. “My accountant will have the check ready for you in the lobby. I appreciate your services.”

“If this one doesn’t work out, let me know and I’ll procure a new specimen for you,” the salesman said.

“And what, per se, would happen to this one, in that case?”

The salesman shrugged. “Depends on the reason you return him, I guess. If it’s behavior problems, he’d go back to the training facility to be re-broken. General disinterest on your part would likely result in him just being auctioned off. He’ll fetch a good price as a sex slave for the next few years. Manual labor isn’t out of the question, but it’d definitely be a waste. If it’s due to injury, however, we’d need to assess the situation. Minor injuries we might repair. Major ones would likely just result in him being put down.”

Mr. Hale nodded politely. “Good to know.”

“Someone will be by tomorrow to install the containment system for you, as well as his Control Chip,” the salesman said. He handed Mr. Hale the keys to the manacles before entering the elevator and riding it down from Mr. Hale’s penthouse suite so that he could collect his payment for the boy.

When they were alone, Mr. Hale deftly removed the restraints, except for the collar, which was required by law. “Do you have a name?” he asked the boy.

“S224345,” Stiles said, reciting his slave ID number, which was tattooed under his right clavicle and on the inside of his left leg.

“Well that doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, now does it? Do you have another name?”

“You can name me whatever you’d like, sir,” Stiles replied politely, with the recommended response to such an inquiry.

“I know that,” Peter replied haughtily. “But I asked if you already have a name. Answer the question or I’ll be forced to punish you, and I really don’t want to do that so soon after obtaining you.”

“S-Stiles, sir,” the boy replied.

“Stiles,” Peter said, testing how the name felt and tasted in his mouth. “Stiles… It’s unique, I’ll give you that.” Peter circled Stiles several more times before finally asserting that the name would remain.  “My name is Peter. You will call me ‘Master’ or ‘Sir.’ Your primary duty will be to serve as my pleasure slave, but I also purchased you for the companionship. As you can see, this apartment is quite large and it sometimes gets lonely.” Stiles nodded to show his comprehension thus far. “I may occasionally spank you for fun. That will be with my hand or a paddle. Discipline will be administered with a cane. Being that I’m an Alpha Werewolf, I’m certain you do not want that, so do try to be obedient. You will remain in the apartment at all times, unless escorted out by me. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” Stiles replied. These were all rather basic requirements. He had been trained to expect much worse. The introduction wasn’t necessary. Stiles had been told things about his owner prior to being delivered.

“Is it true that you’re untouched?”

“Yes sir.”

“You _do_ know what sex is, right?”

Boy, did he ever. He had been trained on what to do by watching extremely graphic videos and live demonstrations of slave boys being used sexually. Oral techniques were taught and practiced with dildos that were hooked up to sensors to ensure that no teeth were being used. His gag reflex had been quelled long, long ago. “Yes sir,” he replied. He had also been taught how to quickly consume urine and semen as it was given to him by his owner, which was commonly required of pleasure slaves.

“Good,” Peter said. “The easiest way to get used to it is to just do it. The first few times will probably hurt a bit, but once you become accustomed to how it feels, you’ll be fine. That being said, I want you to ensure that you’re always lubed and ready for use. Understood?” Stiles nodded and Peter ordered him to move into the bedroom and lie on the bed, on his stomach, with his legs spread wide.

Stiles complied without hesitation, despite being terrified. He felt the weight on the bed shift as Peter climbed on, having stripped off his clothes. He felt the cold, surprise of additional lube being added to himself as Peter slipped his fingers inside, one at a time. The intrusion was as uncomfortable now as it had been a few hours ago before he was delivered here, but he knew from watching slaves getting fucked for the first time that it would be nothing compared to what was going to happen next.

“Remember to breathe and don’t clench. Clenching will make it hurt more for you,” Peter offered as Stiles felt the blunt pressure of his Master’s cock at his entrance. Peter took care to go slowly at first, but still Stiles’ eyes watered. He hadn’t actually seen the cock yet, but he could tell it was _very_ big. He blinked away the tears forming as he struggled to relax his muscles and allow his Owner inside him. “Such a good boy,” Peter gasped as he finally got the last of his length into the slave. Stiles knew from his training that a slave’s value was cut considerably after the first time a cock entered its body. He was officially used goods.

Peter did his best to slowly work his way up in speed and force, occasionally pausing to add more lube. Stiles was grateful for the care that was being taken. He knew that Peter didn’t have to pay any mind to how badly this hurt—which was _bad_ —let alone adjust his methods to compensate.

Stiles bit his bottom lip and squeezed his eyes tight as Peter reached the apex of his thrusts. The initial sharp pain had lessened to a generally dull ache, with the odd sharp bursts of pain and pleasure, depending on how the Werewolf moved. He had lost track of how long they had been at it, but he knew from his training that his Master was likely close to orgasm. He didn’t quite know what to do to spur that along and end this, so he endured until one final agonizing push inside was followed by a loud roar and the hot blasts of his Master’s seed inside him. Peter collapsed on top of him without pulling out. “Fuck! That was good!” he exclaimed, through panting breaths. He playfully slapped Stiles’ right buttock. “Great job. We’ll go again in a few minutes, but I’d be remiss not to point out that it’s proper manners for a slave to say ‘thank you’ when copulation is complete.”

Stiles’ eyes burst open wide and a pang of fear shot through his chest. “I’m so sorry, sir! Thank you, sir!”

“I’ll forgive you this time, since it was your first, but I expect manners to be abided by. You’ll be punished if you fail to follow them in the future,” Peter chastised.

“Yes sir,” Stiles replied.

They remained in that position until Peter was ready to go again. They had sex four more times that night before Peter finally pulled out of Stiles and climbed off of him. Stiles thanked him for each agonizing round. It wasn’t until the cold air hit his now-vacant hole that he realized just how much pain he was in. Peter got up and showered, before returning to the bed. Stiles, having not gotten any instruction to move, remained where he was, in the same position, ready to service his new Owner again, if that was what was required of him.

Peter climbed into bed. “You can go shower right now, if you want… or you can wait until after I fuck you in the morning.” Stiles moved to get out of the bed. “I put out a towel for you. It’s draped over the shower door.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said softly before quickly making his way into the bathroom. Slaves had no expectation of modesty, so he didn’t close the door behind himself. He had also been taught to use as few resources as possible, so he didn’t bother with the knob for heat. He was used to cold showers, anyway. He felt the sensation of Peter’s come leaking out of his body. The cold water on his face gave him permission to cry.

It was rare that he cried about being a slave. He’d been one his entire life. His parents had been slaves who had been in the same breeding facility. That was the way things were for humans outside of the Free Colonies. Humans served the Werewolves in charge and Stiles had just been purchased by a member of _the_ family in charge. Many would say that what Stiles had just endured was a great honor. Stiles would respond to that by saying it wasn’t their previously virgin ass that had just been fucked five times in one night by an Alpha’s massive cock.

Stiles didn’t let himself cry for too long, lest he use too much water. He turned it off and quickly dried himself before returning to the bed. Peter watched him and Stiles could see that he was growing hard again. Finally looking at the cock that had been inside him, he was proud at himself for having endured five rounds with something so large. “Do you want me to assist you with that, sir?” he asked.

“No,” Peter replied with a chuckle. “You’ll find that I’m always horny. If I fucked you every time my cock got hard, you’d probably die. It’s sweet of you to ask, though.”

“Oh,” Stiles replied, getting out of the bed. “In that case, Master, is there a cage I’ll be sleeping in or is the floor fine? I’m a light sleeper, so I can wake up at a moment’s notice if you need me in the middle of the night.”

“You can sleep in the bed with me,” Peter said, pulling him back in and holding him close. Stiles felt Peter’s huge cock pressing against him, nestled between his ass cheeks. “Why is your skin so cold?”

“I took cold shower, sir,” Stiles replied.

“Why?”

“I didn’t think I was allowed to use hot water, sir,” he said softly.

“Of course you can use hot water, Stiles. I don’t need you getting hypothermia. It’s a good thing Werewolves run hot,” Peter said, making it a point to squeeze Stiles more tightly to him. Stiles had never slept in a warm, soft bed before. He had never taken a hot shower before. These were luxuries he was grateful for in ways he didn’t even have the vocabulary to express. His entire life had been filled thus far with icy cold showers, even during the winter, and cold, hard cement slabs to sleep on. Only on the coldest nights was he permitted a thin blanket, otherwise it was considered an attempt at covering his naked body, which was a punishable offense. Aside from the pain of getting fucked that hard, he thought that maybe… just maybe… his first Owner would be a good fit for him.

As Peter snuggled closer to him, Stiles easily fell asleep. He was exhausted and his body and mind demanded rest. He rapidly sank into a dreamless sleep.

He woke up the next morning to the rough shaking of Peter’s hand on his shoulder. Immediately he sprang to alertness. “What may I do for you, Master?”

“I just wanted to know what you like to eat for breakfast. I have a private chef. Whatever it is that you want, he can make,” Peter told him.

Stiles was certain this was a trick. “My Master is so kind to ask,” he said. “But I can eat your table scraps or if there are none, a piece of dry toast, or some Slave Kibble and some water.”

Peter narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side as he took in the answer. He forgot for a moment that the boy was a slave. This was likely the only way breakfast had ever been served to him—either table scraps from Werewolves or enough food to subsist. That would, Peter thought, explain how scrawny the boy was. “I bought you so that you could be my companion _and_ my sex toy. I don’t want you wasting away. You’ll eat well-rounded meals and we’ll work out together… build your musculature a little. Besides, you’ll need the energy if you’re going to have any hope of keeping up with me in the gym or the bedroom.”

“Thank you, Master,” Stiles replied, almost robotically. “I don’t have enough experience with real food to know what to request.”

Peter studied the boy a little longer. “We’ll keep you on a high-protein diet for now. Eggs, meat, cheeses,” he said. He laughed a little as he added, “And of course, my semen.” Stiles wasn’t sure if it was a joke. He’d certainly eat his Master’s semen if that was what his Master wanted. He had learned at the Training Facility that many sex slaves survived on a diet that was comprised sometimes as much as 80% of semen alone. It had been discovered not long after the Werewolves took over and enslaved the humans that when a human was regularly given the ejaculate of a Werewolf, they developed an immutable bond to that Werewolf and thus became more subservient. In addition, the human could actually get much of what it required from that one fluid.

Stiles sat there silently as Peter texted the chef what he wanted to have made. Setting down the phone, Peter then crawled on top of his young slave, lubed himself a bit, before spreading the boy’s legs and pushing in. Stiles let out a gasp. He was still quite sore, which Peter must have sensed.

Placing one hand on the side of Stiles’ face, Peter began to draw off the pain. Stiles watched as his Master’s veins ran black and the pain vanished. It actually felt somewhat good. Peter fucked in and out of him for twenty minutes before his phone rang with the alert that breakfast was ready in the dining room. He worked up to a speed that Stiles was certain would have caused him to pass out, had he not been drawing off the pain as he caused it. Moments later, he felt his owner come inside him again.

It was such a strange sensation. Before losing his virginity, he didn’t expect the temperature of it to be so hot. The first few blasts felt like lava spewing into him. There was also something intimate and personal about having a man reach orgasm inside of his body. He wondered if it were an emotional experience for people who did this voluntarily.

He had been taught of a phenomenon called _slave-love_ that affected sex slaves, in particular. A sex slave whose Master retained him strictly for personal use would eventually come to enjoy the final climactic moments of sex because it meant that he had done a good job. Having his master come inside his body was the ultimate pleasure that a sex slave could aspire to. It was a fulfillment of purpose, and the more often the owner and his slave had sex, the quicker _slave-love_ would develop.

When the same phenomenon happened to free people, psychologists termed it “Stockholm syndrome,” but slaves were expected to be utterly devoted to their Owners. Because of the intimate way in which sex slaves interacted with their owners, the feelings typically developed much faster. His trainers had told him to embrace these emotions. If he had strong feelings of love for his Owner, he’d be more likely to provide a pleasurable sexual experience for said master, regardless of what it felt like for the slave.

“Thank you, Master,” Stiles said as he felt the last of the load shoot into him. He had been staring at a spot in the center of his Owner’s chest. It was forbidden for him to look a Werewolf in the eyes during sex, unless specifically told to.

Peter pulled out of him and collapsed onto his back. He then pulled Stiles on top of him, guiding the slave’s mouth down to the still-engorged member. Stiles knew what he was expected to do and grasped it by the base, taking stock of how difficult it was to fit his hand around it. The lubricant, among other things, left a bitter taste on his tongue as he worked deftly to clean it of any trace of their previous activity. When he was certain it was clean, he pulled up from it, hoping to give his jaw a rest, but Peter had another idea. He moved Stiles so that he was on his back with his head hanging over the side, creating a straight line for the over-sized cock to fuck into.

Stiles worked to relax his throat and time his breathing so that he didn’t choke or suffocate. He felt his face and ears grow hot as blood rushed to them. Peter took his time, seeing no need to rush on Stiles’ account. He made sure to fight his instinct and pull his cock out of the boy’s throat as he came, filling his slave’s mouth. The sheer volume threatened to overwhelm Stiles. He knew that Werewolves produced more come than humans, and none more so than Alphas, but this was staggering.

A trail of spittle connected Stiles’ lips to the bulbous head of his Owner’s cock. Stiles still had the ridiculous amount of come in his mouth, not sure what his Owner wanted him to do with it. As he sat up, he wiped the saliva away from his face with the back of his hand. Peter watched him, waiting to see what he’d do with the semen.

The boy held it there. The heady, thick flavor sat on his tongue. The texture was odd, but not unbearable. Peter waited a few more minutes before finally laughing. “As flattered as I am that you enjoy the taste so much, it’s going to be hard for you to eat breakfast if you don’t go ahead and swallow that.” Stiles allowed the emission to slide down his sore throat. The flavor remained on his tongue. Peter pulled on a bathrobe and Stiles followed, naked, one and a half paces behind his owner, staring at the floor.

The table had been set with two places. The one that was obviously Peter’s was at the head of the table. Alongside his plate, which had considerably more food, was a cup of steaming coffee and a French press, if he wanted more. The newspaper was open and turned to his favorite section. Stiles stood behind the chair that had been placed at the table by the smaller place setting. There were, indeed, scrambled eggs, sausage links, a piece of dry toast, and a glass of milk.

Peter began eating instantly, noticing only after a few minutes that Stiles had not yet sat or begun his breakfast. “Is something the matter?”

“No sir,” Stiles replied.

“Then why aren’t you seated and eating?”

“Because, sir,” Stiles began. “For a slave to dine with its Owner presumes that it is equal with its Owner. I am not your equal.” This fact had been drilled into him from the moment he could understand language. He was not a Werewolf. Unless his Owner petitioned, and that petition was granted, he could not be Turned and attain freedom. In fact, if what the people in the training facility said was true, then Peter had specifically ordered him, and had a hand in choosing which two slaves sired him, as well as every detail of his training and life up until delivery to his Master.

“You’re already aware of the fact that you’re far inferior to me, so I’m not seeing the issue. I’m ordering you to sit and eat breakfast with me… and all meals from now on,” Peter said.

“Yes, Master,” Stiles replied. The chef had not bothered to use any seasonings on Stiles’ portions, which was not shocking to Stiles, who had grown up on bland and flavorless slave food. The sausage links were the most flavorful, so Stiles, after taking a small bite of one, decided to save them for last.

“You haven’t touched your milk yet,” Peter noted. “Do you not like milk? Are you lactose intolerant?” Both times Stiles shook his head and gave a meek “No sir.” A wicked grin parted the Alpha’s lips. “Would you prefer another white substance in its stead?”

Stiles went rigid. This was a trick question. If he said “no,” then Peter might take that for an insult. After all, a slave consumed his Owner’s semen whenever it was given to him. If he said “yes,” however, he could be looking at spending the rest of his time as this man’s slave with nothing but his jizz to drink in the mornings… or at all. His eyes searched the air in front of him as his heart began to thunder in his chest. Certainly Peter would want an answer and he was bracing himself for a harsh blow across the face for failure to produce one.

Peter could smell the surge of panic that blasted from the boy’s pores, choking the room. “Stiles, are you alright?”

Stiles had been trained that the answer to that question was always a resounding, “Yes sir.” But Peter would obviously know he was lying, presenting him with yet another anxiety-spiking dilemma. He immediately burst to his feet and took the discipline position, which had him bending over, grabbing his ankles, leaving his legs and ass muscles taught, heightening the pain of each swat.

“What the hell are you doing?” Peter demanded.

“I deserve to be punished, sir,” Stiles whimpered, bracing himself for the agony to come.

“You’re asking me to cane you?” Peter clarified.

“Yes sir,” Stiles confirmed.

Peter cocked his head. “This is honestly a first for me. Do you _want_ me to cane you? Answer truthfully.”

“No sir. I don’t want to be caned. But I need to be.”

Peter ordered Stiles to stand up straight, so he did. His eyes were red with the tears that were welling up and spilling from them. “What is it that you did that makes you believe you deserve to be caned?”

Stiles took three deep, steadying breaths as Peter physically forced the slave into the chair. He knelt down in front of the trembling, sobbing kid as he awaited the answer. “When you asked if I would prefer milk or your come, I did a great dishonor to you in not immediately responding that I would rather have your emissions than dairy milk, Sir. As a slave, it’s an honor that you use me to pleasure you and I’ll eat your come for every meal if that’s what you order me to do.”

Peter sighed and shook his head. His sense of humor was not for everyone, especially, it seemed, a slave fresh out of the training center. “Stiles… I’m not sure what they told you your enslavement to an Owner would be like, and maybe some Owners are like that… but I’m not. What I said was a joke. You’re my sex slave, so in your line of work, you’ll be swallowing enough of my semen as it is… for meals you’ll drink water, milk, or juice.” The boy stopped trembling, which Peter took as a good sign. He stood up as the security buzzer rang. “Finish your breakfast. We’ll talk about this a bit later.”

Peter pressed a button on the wall and a small screen came to life. A security guard’s face appeared. “There’s a man here requesting access to the Penthouse, saying that he’s here to install a slave containment system and a Control Chip for your new slave. I told him you don’t have a slave and he’s being rather insistent.”

“Send him up,” Peter ordered. “I _do_ have a slave. I received him last night. I’m sorry I forgot to let the security desk know.”

“Right away, Mr. Hale,” the man said before the screen went blank.

The technician arrived a few minutes later. Stiles, who had swiftly finished his food, moved to the kitchen to wash his and his Master’s dishes as Peter discussed the particulars of the system.

“So the one you ordered is state-of-the-art. It connects to the Control Chip, rather than the collar. This means I have to get the chip installed on him before we can put up the sensors and test that they work,” the technician said.

“Stiles, come in here,” Peter ordered. Stiles swiftly entered the living room. Neither Werewolf acknowledged his presence. “So how does the installation of the chip actually work?”

“We would need to restrain the slave and immobilize it as much as possible. I would make a small incision on the back of his neck,” he held up a device the size of a postage stamp, “and I would place this inside the incision and turn it on. It will jack into his central nervous system and immediately begin the healing process, which is how we would know that the installation was successful.”

Stiles did his best not to shiver in fear. He knew the Werewolves could smell the terror already.

Peter led them to the table, where he cleared a space for Stiles to bend across it. He pulled the slave’s arms back, crossing them between their two bodies and laying his weight on them to immobilize them before putting his hands on either side of the boy’s head to hold it still.

Stiles felt a cold bite as an alcohol pad was rubbed along the area that the chip would be implanted into, then the fiery burn of the scalpel as it moved down the nearly one inch of skin needed to install the chip. Stiles cried out at the pain. Never had he felt a pain like the agony of the chip being inserted into his body.

He was also terrified. He had been trained to understand what the chip could do. They were required by law to be installed on any enslaved human in this part of the country and with the press of a button on his Master’s phone, his senses could be taken away, he could be rendered mute, tortured, knocked unconscious, and even killed.

After several long minutes of feeling the man jostling the item inside his skin, the man declared it installed and turned it on. Stiles’ body spasmed as he felt tiny tendrils snake their way between his vertebrae and stab pinpricks into his spinal column. The other two were silent as they waited. Stiles felt the spot on the back of his neck growing warm. “It worked!” the technician announced brightly. “Do you have the Slave Control app on your phone?”

“Give me one second,” Peter replied. He pulled off of Stiles before heading back out into the dining room to fetch his phone. He found the app from the app store and downloaded it in route to the bedroom. The technician walked Peter through the steps of creating an account and registering the serial code of the chip that had just been inserted into Stiles.

“So now, when you open the app, it brings you straight to the control panel. Here you can choose different settings. You can remove his ability to talk, toggle on and off his sight, hearing, sense of touch, smell, or taste. If you hit this button, it puts him instantly to sleep for four hours. You can wake him up, too, by unselecting that button. So that’s the Neuro-function panel. Next is the sex and aesthetic panel. This allows you to turn off his ability to orgasm, play with his libido, determine how hard his cock can get, or if he can ever get a hard-on at all. And this button right here forces an instant orgasm. You can choose if he’s able to ejaculate or not.”

Peter nodded his understanding. “And what’s on the discipline panel?”

“The discipline panel allows you to induce intense pain in whatever part of his body that you want. It’ll also determine how the containment system enforces his boundaries. You’ll be able to alter the perimeter that he’s allowed to be in. If he goes outside the perimeter, into a part of the apartment that’s off limits to him, or even outside of the apartment without the containment turned off, it’ll induce pain strong enough to stop him in his tracks,” the technician explained. Peter seemed impressed. He allowed the technician to finish installing the containment system while playing around with the control panel.

He kept forcing Stiles’ cock to get hard, then immediately softening it before turning off his slave’s ability to become erect or experience sexual pleasure at all.

When the technician was done, he returned to the room where Stiles stood still, a few feet from his Owner. “Everything’s installed. The best way to test it is to have him try to walk out of the apartment.”

Peter nodded and moved to the front door, opening it. “Stiles, try to enter the hallway.”

Stiles knew that doing so was going to cause him pain, but he had to follow the order given, so he took a deep breath and, trembling, moved toward the door. As soon as he passed the threshold, he felt every nerve seem to explode in agony. His muscles seized, causing him to fall to the ground, with his head outside of the containment sensor. The pain continued until Peter pulled him back within the boundary, then all at once, the pain stopped. Stiles panted and trembled as he tried to regain his bearings.

“It looks like everything’s working!” the technician announced cheerfully. Peter thanked him for his work and closed the door behind him once he left.

“Alright,” Peter announced. “I figured that we could spend your first few days with me having sex, to help break you in. I’ve got a friend coming over later with his slave. I’ll be letting him fuck you. I might even let his slave fuck you, too.”

Stiles nodded his comprehension as the ghost of the pain he had just endured finally faded away. Peter bent him over the couch and roughly entered him. Peter didn’t draw off the pain this time, nor for any of the other times he fucked Stiles that day, and with the chip settings now in place, the aspects of sex that had felt pleasurable before no longer did. In its place, he just felt the fullness of the cock and the painful stretching as his body was forced to accommodate it.

They stopped briefly in the afternoon for lunch, and then promptly resumed until the doorbell rang. “That must be Duke,” Peter announced. They were mid-fuck, but Peter pulled out of him. Stiles stayed in the same position, listening as his Owner exchanged pleasantries with the other man.

“And where is he?” Duke asked.

“In the living room. I’ve been fucking him all day. It’s amazing,” Peter said.

Stiles felt a cock pushing into him. It felt different from Peter. This had to be Duke. The man gave him a hard, unsympathetic fuck before coming inside him. When he was done, he pulled out and his slave immediately dropped to his knees and began to clean off his master. Stiles thanked the new man for fucking him.

“So what do you think?” Peter asked.

“I won’t deny he feels great,” Duke replied. “But there’s no skill. He needs to be trained how to actively work the cock, not just take it as it’s being shoved into him.”

“I only broke his cherry last night. I’m sure he’ll learn. How did Ethan learn?”

“After I used him for a few days, I sent him to a sex slave training facility where he was taught the finer art of being a sex slave. I highly recommend it,” Duke replied.

The two of them took turns fucking the slaves a few times before adjourning to the dining room for dinner. Deucalion had ordered Ethan to put in his plug, which had been dangling from a cock ring that squeezed the base of the boy’s cock and balls.

“I haven’t had time to buy a plug for Stiles,” Peter said. “Ethan, I want you to plug him until we return.” Stiles, who was on his back by this point, watched as Ethan’s muscular form moved between his legs. Deucalion tapped a few buttons on his phone and instantly Ethan was hard and pushed himself into Stiles.

Ethan’s cock wasn’t long, but it was thick, which did a great job of keeping the copious amounts of come inside the younger slave’s hole. It felt awkward, though, for them to just be lying there, their bodies connected in such a way.

“Am I going to eventually get used to it?” Stiles asked quietly.

“What?”

“Having dicks and come inside me,” Stiles replied. “It hurts so bad…”

“It’s just because you’re new to it. Give it a little while and it’ll be just like breathing,” Ethan replied. That answer seemed to only worry Stiles more. “You may have heard things about Master Peter in training. They’re true. Just behave, follow orders, and provide him pleasure when he wants it and you will have nothing to worry about. He treats his personal slaves very well as long as they behave.”

“And if they don’t?” Stiles asked, but Ethan didn’t respond, which caused Stiles to worry more.

Upon finishing their meal, the two Masters returned to the room in which they’d left the slaves. Duke ordered Ethan to pull out of Stiles and clean out the copious amounts of semen that he had just been trying to keep inside the younger slave.

Ethan obeyed without hesitation, planting his lips against Stiles battered, aching hole. Stiles gasped at the pleasurable sensation of the other slave’s tongue darting inside him. Peter chuckled as Stiles’ eyes widened. “You like getting rimmed, huh?”

Stiles nodded. “Yes sir,” he moaned. It felt good even considering Peter had made the chip remove his ability to enjoy sex.

Ethan spent several minutes probing Stiles with his tongue. When the last of the Werewolves’ come had been swallowed down, Ethan pulled his face from between Stiles’ ass cheeks and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Duke motioned for Stiles to get up and kneel in front of him. “I know Peter made sure you were kept virgin until delivery, but did they teach you how to properly take a Werewolf’s piss?”

“Yes sir,” Stiles replied. His training in this had resembled something between being water-boarded with urine and being forced to drink from beer bong-like contraptions that looked more at home in a Frat House, but the training had the desired effect of teaching him how to guzzle a large amount of the vile liquid in a short span of time without spilling a drop. He had been trained that it was the expectation that human slaves were the receptacle into which all urine produced by male Werewolves was placed, even in public restrooms. For personally-owned slaves, it was typically drunk straight from the owner’s cock. There were specially designed plugs that could be put into a slave’s ass that allowed a Werewolf to push his cock in, piss, and pull the cock out while keeping all of the urine inside the slave until it could be drained into a container to be drunk at a later time. These plugs were typically utilized by slaves expected to handle the urination needs of a large number of Werewolves… but either way, the slave would always end up drinking it.

According to the people at the training facility, it was more acceptable for the slave to do something as base and demeaning as urinating in a toilet and the urine didn’t completely go to waste since the slave was able to get at least something out of it.

“Good,” was Duke’s simple reply. “Get to it.”

Stiles wrapped his lips around Duke’s half-hard cock and quickly got it as far into his throat as he could. The hot stream began within moments and filled his mouth as it flowed down his throat. Stiles kept gulping as fast as he could, guzzling the salty piss. When Duke was done and Stiles had swallowed the last of it, the Werewolf grabbed a fistful of Stiles’ hair and began fucking the slave’s face with a wild fury, instantly growing rock-hard. By the time Duke had worked himself to orgasm, Stiles’ throat was as sore and raw as his ass from the vigorous use. When Duke came, he pulled all but the very tip of his cock out of Stiles’ mouth, making sure it was filled instead with the large amount of come.

Stiles waited until Duke had fully withdrawn from his mouth before he swallowed.

“Do you like how I taste?” Duke asked.

“Your cock and everything that comes out of it taste good, sir,” Stiles replied politely.

“Good boy,” Duke said. He began pulling his clothes on and congratulated Peter on his new purchase.

As soon as they were alone again, Peter guided Stiles’ mouth to his cock and pissed as well. This time it stung as it flowed down Stiles’ ravaged throat. Stiles still drank every bit of it and thanked his Owner for the privilege of consuming the fluid.

He then turned Stiles around and spread the boy’s ass cheeks, inspecting him. “We really put you through your paces today. We’ll go to the store and get you some Slave Balm tomorrow… maybe get you a few toys, too.” He slapped Stiles’ ass affectionately, indicating for his slave to stand up. “I’m proud of you. You handled a lot, today.”

“Thank you, Master,” Stiles replied. He was exhausted.

Peter slapped his slave’s ass affectionately and ordered him to go shower and brush his teeth.

Stiles brushed his teeth while he waited for the water to warm up. He whimpered as he inserted the attachment used to clean himself out. When he was finally clean again, inside and out, he dried himself off and re-lubed himself before finding his Master in bed. The sheets were half-on and half-off of him. Stiles was somewhat shocked to find that his Master had worn himself out and he wasn’t going to be fucking him again, for now. He did pull the slave tightly against his naked body as they fell asleep. It seemed like mere moments after his head hit the pillow, Stiles fell deep asleep.

The next morning, Stiles was shaken awake, but not so that Peter could relieve himself or fuck out his tensions. Once again, his Owner merely wanted the slave boy to join him for breakfast. His hole was still swollen and tender, as Peter remarked after they shared a breakfast of an omelet and French toast.

“Stiles, I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“For what, Master?” Stiles asked, inquisitively cocking his head to the side. “I don’t understand.”

“This weekend was supposed to be about breaking you in and us bonding as Master and slave,” Peter began. “But I was way too rough on you and I am very sorry for that.”

“It’s fine, Master,” Stiles replied on instinct. “It’s your right to fuck me as hard as you want.”

Knowing that the slave wouldn’t allow him to apologize for his actions and that each attempt would receive a similar reply, Peter dropped it. When the two were done eating, Peter grabbed the leash and his keys and headed toward the door, ordering Stiles to follow. Stiles took a deep breath, but as he approached the doorway, he couldn’t muster the courage to step through, knowing what kind of agony awaited him when he did.

“What are you waiting for?” Peter asked impatiently. Immediately Stiles felt his pulse skyrocket as his eyes traced the door frame. “Oh shit,” Peter said as he realized what was causing Stiles such anxiety. “Stiles, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot.” Peter pulled out his phone and tapped the screen several times. “That should do it… try stepping out.”

Stiles hesitantly inched closer to the door. As he passed through the doorway, he braced himself for the agony he’d experienced the day before, but to his relief, there was none. Peter pulled him into a tight hug, which confused the young slave.

“It’s going to take some getting used to,” he said. “If I ever forget, please remind me. If I had it my way, there wouldn’t be a security sensor at all. It’s a requirement of the building for tenants who own slaves.”

“I’m happy to abide by whatever limitations my Master sets on me,” Stiles replied out of habit.

Obeying the leash law, Peter connected the leash to Stiles’ collar and tethered it to one of his belt loops. Stiles found it easy to keep up with his Owner’s brisk pace. He kept his eyes down, like he had been trained to do. He didn’t notice the way Free people ogled his naked form as it walked down the hallway or stood in the elevator. Stiles tried to take up as little space as possible, not wanting to accidentally offend a Free person by touching them in the crowded metal box.

Sending his nervousness, Peter pulled him close and held him there as they ventured their way down from the Penthouse, making multiple stops.

Several people commented on Stiles’ spattering of moles, remarking how beautiful they were against the creamy pale skin. Peter thanked them for their compliments. Others offered unsolicited advice on the upkeep of Stiles’ physique or sexual prowess. Peter merely grunted an acknowledgement of them. One person went so far as to suggest that Peter neuter Stiles… that it would be more aesthetically pleasing and lead to an overall better sexual experience for the owner. To that, Peter responded with a curt, “He’s a purebred. Anyone who can’t see that by his bearings or would venture to mutilate him like that obviously knows nothing about slaves and even less about when their opinions are solicited.”

The remainder of the elevator ride was quiet and Stiles struggled hard not to grin at the way his Owner had admonished the other haughty slave owner, whose slave _had_ been neutered.

When they walked out of the building, a driver was waiting, opening the car door for Peter, but not acknowledging Stiles in any way. Stiles was accustomed to this. Slaves were not people. Their thoughts, ideas, and feelings were of no interest to the Werewolves who owned them and even less so to the Werewolves who didn’t—save for the radical anti-slavery crowd that were pushing for laws prohibiting cruelty to the human slaves, even if they couldn’t get the support to ban the practice altogether. Only in the past two years had it been made illegal to murder a slave. Even then, the penalty was a fine equal to double the slave’s retail value paid to the owner if the slave belonged to someone else, or to the state if the slave belonged to the person who killed it. Stiles remembered two of the trainers at the Training Center complaining to one another about how this law would lead to others that eventually would abolish slavery.

The backseat of the car was roomy and Stiles sat quietly as they rode to the store. Once more, Stiles followed two steps behind. The store sold all manner of slave accessories and products from slave chow, to cages, to clothing (which was not needed, but sometimes owners who held a lot of affection for their slaves might dress them up in a cute outfit.)

The sections of the store were laid out for slave function. Peter headed straight toward the section marked “Body Slave.” He found a large container of Slave Balm and put it in the basket. After a few minutes of browsing, he was greeted by a worker. “Can I help you find anything?”

“Perhaps,” Peter replied.

The worker’s eyes darted down to the item already in the basket. “If I may ask, sir, is it the size of your endowment that is causing the irritation when using the slave?”

Peter smirked. “I’m quite large, yes. I also bought him as a virgin only two days ago. A friend and I went a little too rough on him. He hasn’t been properly broken in.”

The worker perked up and dashed away, coming back with an item that perplexed Stiles at first. “This is a decorative plug. As you can see, the inserted portion is long and somewhat thick, but it’ll help keep his entrance stretched _just_ enough to prevent damage when being used vigorously or by multiple people. The part that dangles out is also fun and we have several different styles to fit your preferences.”

“I like the fox tail one,” Peter replied, looking over at the display.

“I’ll grab one for you,” the worker said brightly. He returned announcing that he had the largest one.

Peter then moved over to the section labeled “Slave Décor.” A variety of collars and piercings adorned the displays. The same worker mentioned that any jewelry bought could be installed onsite by their licensed veterinarian.

“By the way, you mentioned that you had only just bought him. Have you had him checked out yet by a vet?” the man asked.

“No, actually,” Peter admitted.

“We’re offering a free initial evaluation with the purchase of a body modification,” the salesman replied.

“Hmm,” Peter replied, eyeing several nipple ring sets before ultimately settling on a collar The collar was a chain that would fit more loosely around his neck than the tight plastic leather one that was standard-issue to all slaves. “I won’t be buying any jewelry today, but I would still like to get him evaluated.”

They were led to a small exam room where Stiles was ordered to climb onto a cold, stainless steel exam table and wait on all-fours for the veterinarian. The salesman processed the sale of the merchandise and advised Peter wait until after the exam to apply the balm.

He left them alone. Peter stood by the table, absentmindedly stroking the back of Stiles’ head as if he were a dog. Stiles found that he rather liked the show of affection.

The veterinarian was an older man with kind but shrewd eyes. He took a moment to look at the chart before asking Peter a series of questions about Stiles and his function as a slave, writing down the answers.

“Have you allowed him to ejaculate yet?”

“No,” Peter replied. “I turned off that function altogether with the chip.”

The vet nodded. “We _do_ recommend allowing the slave to ejaculate at least once every few months to maintain good prostate health. The chip will allow you to force it with a button, so that you don’t have to waste time.” The vet then paused, and in a lowered voice added, “One other thing about slaves in Stiles’ particular situation… when body slaves are fully trained in the facility, part of that training involves performing oral and anal sex with another slave to understand the pleasure they’re intended to provide their future owners. Stiles’ training, however, was entirely theoretical. We find that permitting them to experience sex with another slave early in their ownership makes them better sex slaves in the long-run. If you’d like, we have a stock of slaves that can be used for that purpose at no extra cost.”

Peter studied his slave for a moment before agreeing. The veterinarian smiled and disappeared for a few minutes before returning with a blonde slave that Stiles figured was around his age, perhaps a bit older. The slave was made to stand in the corner while the rest of the exam was completed.

The vet fingered Stiles for several minutes, then spent several more minutes fondling his cock and balls. “His body is definitely trying to adjust to the use. I would caution against extremely vigorous use, but as long as you’re properly lubricating and stretching, he should adapt nicely. Human slaves are not quite as durable as we Werewolves in some aspects, but they are incredibly resilient.”

He then ordered Stiles to stand and had the other slave approach the table. Peter temporarily disabled the chip and the other slave took Stiles in his mouth and easily coaxed him to a full erection. The slave then leaned over the table and Stiles was ordered to mount him. He had watched it happen countless times in the Training Facility and had been mounted numerous times the day before, so he understood what was being asked of him.

He lined the head of his cock up to the pink pucker of the other slave and slowly pushed in. He gasped as the other slave gripped him and quickly worked his way to a pace that drew orgasm in just a few minutes. The other slave remained stone-faced as it happened, and as soon as Stiles had pulled out, the other slave dropped back to his knees and coaxed yet another orgasm, this time with his mouth.

Stiles’ entire torso was flushed as Peter reactivated the chip, turning off Stiles’ ability to orgasm or feel sexual pleasure. The other slave was dismissed and the vet lubricated the tail plug with Slave Balm before shoving it hard into Stiles’ ass, causing him to grunt loudly. The vet then shook Peter’s hand and dismissed himself, signaling that they were done. Peter paid for everything and attached the leash to Stiles’ new collar, leading him outside and back into the car.

The entirety of the car ride home found Stiles’ head in his Master’s lap, bouncing up and down on the large cock. Stiles swallowed the fluids that were released into his mouth and once again thanked his Owner.

Upon returning to the apartment, Peter showed Stiles a wing that he hadn’t yet been introduced to. It contained a gym, a discipline/BDSM room, and a room that Peter explained was built to emulate a private movie theater. “From time to time we might watch movies in there and I may have you service me during the course of the film.”

They spent several hours in the gym. Peter had Stiles run on the treadmill for half an hour. Running with the plug inside him was difficult, but eventually he found a stride. After, Peter had him lift weights, tailoring the exercise to build and tone his chest, arms, and legs. The workout ended with Stiles bent over a piece of equipment. Peter ripped the plug out of him and shoved his cock inside the slave in its stead. A component of the exercise equipment, a cold metal bar, dug painfully into his pelvis as Peter’s unforgiving pace made it hard to maintain his bearings.

Stiles bit his lip to avoid crying as his owner slammed into him one final time before emptying himself into the slave’s bowels. He expected Peter to pull out, but he didn’t. He stayed lodged firmly inside and instead picked Stiles up and carried him into the bedroom. He pulled Stiles up off his cock just long enough to flip him around and force him back down onto it before easing the young slave onto his back, embraced by the silky sheets and soft mattress.

Each thrust was made easier by the hot spray of come that had been pumped into him, but the pace was still painful, made even more so by the fact that Peter he wasn’t physically capable of enjoying it, thanks to the chip. Stiles was reminded suddenly that as a sex slave, this wasn’t _supposed_ to be fun or feel good. Having sex with his owner was his main chore.

Peter must have realized he was hurting his slave because he reached down and began to draw off the pain and suddenly the sex felt like… like nothing. Stiles stared vacantly at a spot on his owner’s glistening chest. His eyes traveled further… to the rock-hard abs and then the V that led to the massive cock that was forcing its way into and out of his body at speeds that were blurry to his human eyes.

Then it happened.

He watched as the cock he was getting to know—the cock he had memorized by this point—began to elongate and swell. He didn’t think his body could accommodate any more, but he was wrong. His body did accommodate it, though not easily. A sharp, bulbous growth appeared near the base of the cock and Stiles watched in horror, but with an unimpeded view, thanks to the angle at which his owner was fucking him, as Peter frenziedly attempted to get it inside of him. The first few tries were unsuccessful. They were painful even with Peter siphoning off the pain. When it finally _did_ pass the rim and enter him, it was agony. It was pain unlike Stiles had ever experienced before.

He knew he shouldn’t have… he’d been trained not to… he knew he’d get punished for it… but Stiles screamed out. If losing his virginity to Peter felt like getting sawed in half, he didn’t have a word for what this was. Almost as soon as it was inside, Peter stopped moving and it was like a fire hose opening up inside him. At first Stiles thought his owner was pissing… but he realized after a few moments the pulsing rhythm of the way it was entering him…. His owner wasn’t pissing inside him. His owner was coming… much more than he had ever come inside him before.

He hadn’t been trained for this. He didn’t know what was going on. He was panicking. All the training he received seemed to be useless and he looked into his owner’s face for help… for guidance.

Peter seemed to be just as shocked as he was and that did nothing to settle the boy at all.

“Master, what’s happening? What are you doing?” Stiles asked. A million questions flying through his brain, only some of them managing to slip out. “Why did your cock get so big? Why did it hurt so much going into me? Master I don’t understand…” He swallowed as he choked back tears. “Master, I’m scared.”

Peter inhaled deeply. He could smell the putrid scent of the boy’s terror. It was choking the room. He had to remind himself that his slave was only 14 and had just lost his virginity two days prior. He had never experienced an Alpha’s knot. Few slaves ever had… even sex slaves.

For his knot to have popped inside the boy—for him to have lost control like that—was significant. It said more about his slave than about him. He needed to see what pedigree information he had from Stiles’ purchase paperwork. Stiles was more than just a beautiful young slave with a lithe body, a hot and wet mouth, and tight hole. Stiles was a Spark. There was no way his sellers knew this or he’d have had to pay ten times what he did for the right to own a Spark.

“You’re alright, Stiles,” Peter assured him. “I’m going to rearrange us so that you can be a little more comfortable while I explain to you what just happened. Moving is going to hurt, but once we’re in position, as long as you stay still, you’ll be fine… you’ll just feel me inside you.”

He picked up the boy and moved them so that he was sitting in a slightly reclined position, resting against the headboard and Stiles was on top. Peter propped his knees up to give Stiles something to lean back against, which he encouraged his young slave to do. He could feel the relaxation in the boy’s muscles as he acclimated to their new position.

He explained his knot and that it meant they’d be stuck together until it finally deflated and that pulling it out could cause irreparable harm.

“They never told me about knots in the training facility,” Stiles admitted. “I’m sorry I freaked out.”

“They didn’t tell you because they didn’t think it would ever matter. An Alpha only knots a slave in very rare circumstances. The fact that I knotted you means that you’re special, Stiles. It means that you’re especially influenced by Alphas. Once we develop enough of a bond, I’ll be able to control you with more than just the chip. You’ll be more obedient, more receptive, and more pliant than an Omega in heat and you’ll only ever respond like that to _me_.”

“I’m still not sure that I understand,” Stiles replied cautiously.

Peter thought for a moment. He pulled out his phone and opened the control app that synced to the chip in Stiles’ neck. “Because you’re my slave and your chip is registered to me, I already have ownership and control over your body. I’ve used this app to turn off the most base instinct built into every human male: the instinct to orgasm. I’ve fucked you at my will. I’ve pissed down your throat. I’ve let other people do the same… because I own you. You are my property and I can do these things to you. But under normal circumstances, there will always be a small part of you that I would never be able to fully control and have ownership of for as long as you and I maintain our relationship as Master and slave,” Peter explained. He tapped Stiles forehead. “Your soul… your mind… your innermost thoughts and desires. I can curb them, certainly. I can even train some things into or out of you. But I’d never have full and total control. But since you’re a spark, not only do I possess your flesh and everything inside of it… once you and I bond a little more as Alpha and Spark, I won’t just possess and control your body. I’ll possess and control your soul.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought! I love feedback and it really helps to fuel my muse.


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